


“You’re just Charles.”

by transoffdensen



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Acceptance, Charles has a bussy okay just accept it, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Secret Crush, Slow Romance, Trans Male Character, Transgender, pre-bottom surgery, season 2 extra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transoffdensen/pseuds/transoffdensen
Summary: Dethklok’s manager holds a lot of secrets, especially from his own band— but alcohol never helps keep those secrets hidden for long. Luckily, it worked out for the better.* Same timeline as The Shot, which means Pickles is trans too. *





	“You’re just Charles.”

**Author's Note:**

> everyone loves a good fic based on the sloppy drinkin season 2 extra, so I wrote my own. but this time it’s trans. because we need more trans headcanons.
> 
> this started out as a quick fuck fic but I somehow dove deep into emotional acceptance, and I’m just really really happy with how this turned out

He agreed to pal around. He agreed to... get sloppy. But he never anticipated the night to carry on in such a fashion.

Hours had passed, and plenty of drinks had been downed. Their manager had joked, shared some laughs— showed the boys that he wasn’t _actually_ a robot.

Charles tried to spread his attention to all of Dethklok, but... for some reason, Nathan _really_ took the stage. Ironic, that the frontman was his main focus. It was everything about him... his voice, the stupid jokes he told, the very presence of him. Especially his hair. Charles had always appreciated Nathan’s waist-length raven hair, but _Drunk_ Charles wanted to show that appreciation. So he played with it, gently, twisting locks between fingers here and there, getting a shoulder shrugged at him as a tell-off for him to go away. But the further on the night went, the less the singer denied these advances.

A few times his foot had nudged against Nathan’s leg- and by the amount of alcohol in his system he couldn’t tell if his own actions were on purpose or not at this point, but he noticed that it wasn’t a move being shoved away from. In fact, at some moments, Nathan bumped his knee out against his own, attempting to replicate the small under-table action. Charles attempted to adjust his glasses, cheeks and ears burning from both a combination of his many drinks, and the growing situation between him and his band’s lead. His eyes momentarily crossed, and his vision blurred, causing him to shake his head. He hated it when that happened.

Eventually, the other members had dispersed, whether passed out at the bar or off banging groupies, Charles didn’t know. But what he was painfully aware of was the pair of emerald green eyes baring into his soul from the other side of the table. He sipped his whiskey, shuddering slightly at the burn. His eyes flicked up, meeting those across from him. Nathan knew, of course— at this point.. how could he not?

Charles stood.

Nathan matched his movements.

Then the brunette stumbled, and Nathan caught him by the arm. “I think I ah, I’m going to.. be sick.” Charles mumbled, never shifting his eyes away from the other’s. “Can you, uh.. can you help me..? To- to... to uh, the bathroom.” It was a sheepish attempt at getting out of the main room of the bar, where despite the dim lights and lack of people nearby, someone could easily see them closely interacting if they just so happened to pass by at the right- or, wrong- moment. Nathan nodded silently, never removing his hand from Charles’ arm to keep him from stumbling over his own feet, moving them both through billows of cigarette smoke and other staggering drunks.

Not a moment had gone by when they shuffled into the outer hallway before Nathan placed his other hand on the shorter man, keeping him steady as he wobbled. Charles looked up, his vision spinning, glasses askew. Again, their eyes met. ‘ _Fuck. I’m too drunk for this_...’ he thought, his mind never stopping. And before his inebriated brain had time to register it, Nathan pulled him into a crushing kiss. It took him by surprise, but he felt a wave of relief by the other making the first move. He began to part his lips, an invitation for this to go further, but Nathan pulled back and began to quickly move down the hallway to where it was darker, further away from prying eyes. He was too drunk and dizzy to walk on his own and Charles was grateful for the large hands guiding him into the dimly lit area.

His heart threatened to burst from his chest.

At the end of the hallway, finally, his vision spun as Nathan practically moved like a hungry animal, cornering his prey. Limbs tangled together, lips smashed, breath shared. The alcohol they both had partaken in had completely overwhelmed and impaired them both, leading to such disarray of emotion and control. Charles attempted to deepen the kiss once more, and this time it was reciprocated, as a hot and heavy tongue pushed its way into his mouth, sharp teeth grazing his lips.

‘ _There’s .. no way this is happening_...’ The voice in the back of the CFO’s brain murmured. He heard a deep grunt from the singer as a large hand gripped the back of his head, pushing their kiss to be deeper, more passionate. It really _was_ happening- and he didn’t want anything to stop it.

He was suddenly all too aware of the thick leg between his thighs, pushing them slightly apart. Everything was moving so fast, his head spinning as he felt the other’s growing erection grind against his hip. He prayed that Nathan didn’t notice there was only one bulge in the mix, and momentarily grew cold, a moment of paranoia crashing over him like a tidal wave. Charles viciously shook off the feeling, and let his eyes flutter shut, allowing the moment to take him away from the feeling of booze sloshing in his guts and the weighty thrum of growing anxiety in his skull. Everything would be alright. Everything always works out in the end... he would think of some way to avoid it.

Before long, desperate hands grappled at clothing, tearing away at an already undone suit jacket. Heavy breaths, teeth grazing against pale skin, moans escaping between parted lips.

This was something they clearly both had craved, but denied for so long.

Suddenly Charles felt his back being shoved against the wall. It was something he had wanted and fantasized for quite some time, but he had never expected it to come to fruition. But here he was, and alas, most likely too drunk to remember most of it by the morning. Nathan’s mouth was now on his neck, sucking hard, large hands shoving their way up beneath what was once a freshly pressed dress shirt. Fingertips grazed over his chest, thumbs rubbing in circles. He gasped, draping his arms over Nathan’s broad shoulders.

Then he felt one hand slip south, pushing its way between fabric and hot skin. Charles’ heart shot up into his throat like a rocket— no. No, no no no. Nathan wasn’t aware, he didn’t know yet. _No one knew except Pickles._ This was supposed to be avoided, he was supposed to sink to his knees and give a ‘groupie blowjob,’ or, or, something- anything— _any fucking thing_ to not be outted by his own stupidity and arousal before he was ready to approach the singer.

He quickly shifted his body, maneuvering his hips away from the other, and yet Nathan persisted. Maybe he thought their manager was playing hard to get, maybe it was just the alcohol overriding his system. Either way, the bulkier man shoved his hand further down, eagerly feeling for what was clearly absent.

Nathan’s motions ceased.

Charles’ breath froze in his chest.

All that Nathan felt was hot wetness, twitching his fingers just slightly further — inquisitively. Charles couldn’t help but moan, eyes clamped shut. He was shaking.

Had he been shaking this whole time?

The singer rolled his wrist, pushing thick fingers further down and against soft skin. The shorter of the duo gasped, twisting hands into any strands that he could find of the thick black hair surrounding them both, like a curtain in the dim light at end of this hallway. Nathan was perplexed- he knew Charles was.. a man. Yet, clearly, a key component was out of place. Or at least, that’s what he had been taught. He felt again, pushing his hand further, but his brows raised as he clearly felt what he was very familiar with already, slick with lust. Nathan paused again.

Charles couldn’t stop his own body before gently shifting his legs apart. No- this could go wrong, very quickly. “Nathan...” he uttered, quietly, a whisper just below his breath. His brain was crossing wires between need and fear. Every fiber of his being had wanted this, _wanted Nathan_ , since before Dethklok even became famous, but he had never dared to express the truth behind his exterior. At first he was afraid to tell them, but now he simply felt that no one had to know... not even his boys. There was no need. He was a man, one Charles Foster Offdensen, and that was that. But right now, it was too late, and the man pressing him against a wall with all of his weight had figured everything out by now.

‘ _Gods_ ,’ he prayed to anyone listening, ‘ _Please let him be open to this._ ’

The sudden push of two fingers into his body had quickly answered that question. And Charles gasped, spreading his legs further. ‘ _Oh... Thank Those that Be_.’

Nathan grunted against his skin. “Why didn’t I know...” he growled, as calmly as possible. “You could have.. told me.” Breath reeking of beer and liquor, his lips pressed firmly against the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I.. know people like this, already.” Fingers hitched upwards, eliciting a whine from the other. Nathan smiled, and Charles felt it. And whatever he was doing with his hand, he was doing it well. Plenty of practice, he assumed, but right now all he could focus on was how much larger the other’s fingers were. They exceeded his imagination, that was for sure.

Their manager swallowed hard. “I, ah- I never..” He gasped again, hips bucking against his own will. “Never... saw a reason t-to ah, share...” His words were slurred and his head still spun, so he kept his eyes tightly shut as word vomit continued to spill from his mouth before he could even think. “I- I.. was afraid, you— ah- _a-any_ of you would- would uh.. be disgusted.”

He felt Nathan stop any movement before the smile that was pressed against his skin disappeared as the taller man stood upright, looming over him. ‘ _Shit_.’ Charles cracked open an eye, peeking up at the other through the darkness. Black hair hung over them both, covering half of Nathan’s features from his view. He was frowning. A scowl, even. Then Charles felt empty, breath hitching as the hand pulled away from his groin.

“Why the _fuck_ would I be disgusted?” Nathan rumbled, balling his hands into fists. “That’s.. so fucking stupid. You’re fucking stupid... for.. for thinking this would even be an issue!” His volume raised slightly, as per the norm, and Charles stared up at him with full attention now. Nathan wasn’t angry, per se, but he was definitely irritated- moreso at the situation itself than at his manager.

He stammered. “It- I didn’t think.. well, aah—“ For once, he seemed to be at a lack for words while talking to Nathan. “It.. i-it’s not that, I thought.. well, I..” He swallowed hard, shifting an arm to cover his chest, pure instinct from his youth. “I was, bullied.. o-often, and, uh- I..” Clearing his throat, he never broke eye contact with the other, who continued to stare down at him with heated emotion. “It’s just.. i-it’s just, simpler, Nathan.. to, ah, not let anyone—“ He paused, hiccuping in his drunken state, “—a-anyone, b-besides, ah.. Pickles... know...”

Nathan staggered, still heavily inebriated. He leaned his weight against Charles again, pushing their fronts together, causing the other to move his arm out of the way. “I don’t give a fuck what you are. It doesn’t _matter_.” His voice was a low growl, something that Charles could feel deep in his chest. The singer’s breath ghosted across his face. “You’re.. you’re _you_. You’re the douchebag that keeps us in check, the asshole that makes sure we don’t fucking _die_.” Suddenly Nathan had his dress shirt gripped in his fists. “And.. it doesn’t matter whatever you were born as. _You’re just Charles._ That’s all I fucking care about.” He bared his teeth in a flashy smile. “And I know you wanna do this thing. With... uhh, with me. So... shut the fuck up. Let it happen.”

Before he could blink, their lips were smashed together once again in a heavy kiss. Nathan wouldn’t let him retaliate with anxious stuttering, mixing their tongues together in an almost primal display of ownership. He nearly melted into the other’s touch, his brain circulating the words he had just heard, trying to come to terms with the simple acceptance. So many years had been wasted on fear and neuroticism, when it was really this simple? Charles moaned into the kiss when he felt a hand leave his shirt and slip back down between them, fumbling with the fly if his suit pants. He reached down, attempting to assist the other before he heard the distinct sound of tearing fabric— of course. But he was too inveloped in the moment, and too drunk, for the record, to truly care. It was a problem for tomorrow Charles. Right now, he needed only to focus on Nathan Explosion.

Slacks were shoved down to his ankles, and he drunkenly wiggled one shoed foot out. He let out a gasped “ _Oh_ —“ when Nathan hoisted him up, hooking his knees over strong arms. When did he undo his own pants? Everything was a blur at this point.

He wrapped his arms around Nathan’s shoulders, somewhat shamefully feeling like some desperate groupie. It wasn’t half-bad. Then he felt Nathan shifting his hips, attempting to align himself for a perfect entrance. Charles groaned, letting his forehead rest against the other’s shoulder. His head was swimming, his skin felt hotter than ever before. He couldn’t tell if the alcohol had started to wear off or if their constant motion had propelled it further, but either way he was ready for whatever was about to happen.

Suddenly there was a growl, hips jutting forward.

A perfect fullness, and a sharp gasp.

Charles clawed at the singer’s scalp, entwining his fingers into tendrils of inky black locks. “Ah— N- Nathan—“ It was all he could muster before the other began to move, thrusting hips upwards into his manager. It was surreal, everything about this entire night. And now they were here, together, at the end of a dim and musty hallway, fucking like wild animals against a dirty bar wall. Nathan wasted no time in quickening his movements, growling again into Charles’ neck. The nights he shared alone in his private bedroom, muttering out the name of someone he never expected to hear it, were nothing compared to the real deal. The cock currently stretching him wide open was a thousand times better than any toy he’d used, and especially better compared to his own hands. He had _severely_ underestimated how large Nathan was when erect.

He shifted one arm off and away from around the other’s neck, sliding it down and over Nathan’s chest and stomach momentarily. He could feel muscles flexing behind a soft layer of fat, something the singer was always worried about—Charles always thought it was charming. A growl against his neck signaled a sudden change in pace, as Nathan hunched forward, angling his hips a better direction.

“ _Oh my Gods_ —!”

His head fell backwards against the wall as he practically ragdolled in the other’s grip, attempting to hold on with his left arm that was still around strong shoulders. Nathan nipped at his neck, eliciting another moan before he moved his head to get a better look at Charles’ face. Between his hazel eyes fluttering open and closed, they were crossing. To himself, it simply felt as the darkness and the alcohol impaired his vision, he wasn’t even aware— to Nathan, it was a hilarious view of how sloppy his manager had gotten. But now wasn’t the time to laugh at him, and so he focused his attention on rolling his hips, grunts and growls mixing with gasps and moans.

Charles continued to snake his hand down, groaning when he began touching himself in time to his current partner’s thrusts. It had been uncountable years since he’d last been with someone- maybe since college? He couldn’t remember. But for Nathan, of all people, to break that absense... he wouldn’t have wished for anyone else. Clearly his body agreed — Nathan slid easily in and out, now caught up in mumbling about how good he felt. He continued to circle his fingertips on himself, as they carried on this way for several more long minutes, which felt like an eternity to him. Short whines and deep grunts, an occasional growl. It wasn’t long before Charles felt a growing ball of hot energy inside of his abdomen, causing him to quicken his hand, swirling and pawing at himself, the swollen nerves of his clit only heightened from how wet the other man had gotten him. “Nathan— I’m g- I’m gonna—“ He whined, letting his head lay against the other’s shoulder once again, unable to formulate any more words.

Nathan aimed to make his final movements as aggressive as he could without hurting the other man, his hips slamming up into hot wetness- a mild slapping sound that he always enjoyed. Years of experience allowed him to memorize and figure out all the right directions to hit, and he wondered if it felt the same- or even better, considering this turnout- for someone who was trans. He made a mental note to ask about that later. There was no further warning when Charles gasped, seemingly breathless, and the singer felt him tighten every muscle down to his very core. Charles’ legs shook, orgasm crashing through his entire body, soundlessly crying out into the frontman’s neck. Nathan almost immediately followed suit, primally snarling.

“Oh **_FUCK_** —“

Charles felt heat explode within him, a filling sensation as Nathan slowed down his hips after a few quick thrusts to finish himself off. He slumped forward, his entire body limp as he heavily breathed in the scent of their sex, mixed together with sweat and the musty bar air. He groaned when Nathan slid out, legs wobbling as his feet were returned to the floor. His eyebrows knit together as he felt more than his own wetness leaking out and down the inside of his thighs, unsure if it disgusted him or turned him on- he would decide later when he was more sober. For now his attention was taken by the pair of eyes staring down at him, and he looked back up, hazily blinking from behind crooked fogged glasses.

“Is.. is it, uhh, okay that I did that..” Nathan tried to whisper, as best he could with his voice, “... Y’know. _In you_..?” It took a moment for Charles to clearly understand, his mind bouncing between what just happened, to the mess between his legs, to how he would explain his torn slacks if someone were to inquire. He blinked, shaking his head momentarily to clear his mind. “Ah, y.. yes, Nathan. It’s fine. Nothing can uh, nothing can happen.” He gently chuckled, hesitantly placing a hand on Nathan’s arm for balance as he reached down to slip his pants back on. If anyone pointed out the mess on his lap he would acquit it to a vomit-related incident— at this point he was still too drunk to care.

Nathan tucked himself back into his jeans and coughed, unsure of how to follow up. Words were never his strong point. “So.. you uh, ... like me a lot, huh.”

Charles startled, looking back up. He swallowed, hard, not realizing in his liquored up stupor that this was definitely an issue to be addressed. “I- ah, that’s—“ His words were cut off once again as Nathan kissed him, though this time it was a much more gentle notion. His eyes closed, moving a hand to rest on the broad chest in front of him. They stayed that way for a minute or two before parting, Charles attempting to push his hair back into place as he hiccuped, and Nathan adjusting his t-shirt.

“We should ah, get back—“

“Yeah, totally.”

Nathan allowed Charles to use him as support while they walked back up the hallway, both of them still heavily inebriated though the manager was further gone. When they returned to the previously abandoned booth, Pickles had returned at some point in their absence. “Heyyy, wheeere’d you guys go?” He slurred, a beer in his hand and a smile on his freckled face. Nathan shrugged Charles off of him and into his previous seat, sitting himself down on the opposite side of the table. “Someone,” he motioned with his head to their manager, “Had to puke. It was pretty fuckin’ brutal.”

Pickles quirked a brow, taking a sip from his beer. “You musta gone to a different bathroom orrrr, or somethin’.” He chuckled. “Just came back from there.. and _allllmost_ intur- intreup... _innn-teer-up-ted_ .. some couplah doods fuckin’ like, like wild bunny rabbits.” A sputter came from Charles when he noticed the drummer staring directly at him, still smirking. “Nyeah. ... it sounded pretty hot, d’ough.”

The table shook as Nathan stood up seemingly out of nowhere. “I’m done with this fuckin’ place.” He almost shouted, moving out of the booth area. “Vomit Bot 9000 here should go home, too. C’mon, call someone.”

Charles furrowed his brow, swaying side to side in his seat a little. The room was spinning. “I don’t.. ah, I don’t know where..” He patted his pockets, then glanced under the table. Bad idea. Blinking slowly, his body swayed forward and backwards this time. “My phone’s ah, .. m-missing.”

“Ayyye, don’t worry about it d’ere, Chief.” The redhead pulled out his Dethphone, typing out what was probably the worst written drunk-text any Klokateer will ever read. “On the wey.”

Nathan helped Charles stand up again, grabbing him by the wrist to keep him steady. He guided him to the front entry of the bar, and Charles just barely missed the glare that the singer shot over his shoulder at Pickles, who leaned back in his seat with a shit-eating grin on his face. Once outside, they both leaned back against the buildings exterior, noting the sun rising distantly in the sky but neither making comment on how beautiful it was.

“Nathan...”

The larger man grunted in response.

Charles smiled, closing his eyes. “Would you, ah.. like to talk a- about this.. later?” He was hesitant, some part of him hoping this wasn’t just a one-time drunken escipade. The distant sound of an extravagantly large helicopter echoed in the distance. He suddenly felt sleepy, a few minutes of excruciating silence hanging between them.

“Yeah... I think so.”

It was the last thing he heard before booze and darkness overtook his mind, as his head nodded to the side against Nathan’s shoulder.

The morning would come eventually for Charles Offdensen, and for once he wouldn’t regret a night of drinking.


End file.
